


A Mouth is a Mouth

by Raelynn



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-21
Updated: 2014-05-21
Packaged: 2018-01-25 22:46:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1665278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raelynn/pseuds/Raelynn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt fill from a friend during a conversation we were having about someone else, and he said "There you go, write that Sherlolly."  And then I couldn't get it out of my head until I wrote it.<br/>Not beta'd, barely edited, but here it is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Mouth is a Mouth

Sherlock ignored the knock on the door to his flat the first couple of times, but by the fourth time he realized whoever it was wasn’t going to go away. It couldn’t be John or Mrs. Hudson, either of them would just let themselves in. Lestrade rarely came to 221B, he usually just texted and told Sherlock where to meet him.

Sighing, he put down the book he was reading and walked to the door, his housecoat swirling behind him. He threw open the door with a snarled “What?” and did a double take when he saw Molly Hooper standing there, shifting from foot to foot and looking nervous.

“Molly.” he said. He jerked his head backwards indicating she should follow him, and then turned and walked back into the flat. He heard the door close behind him. Arranging his face into something he hoped was at least an approximation of friendly, he turned.

“What can I do for you, Molly?” he asked, looking her up and down. He deduced her quickly, and interrupted her response before she could speak. “You’ve brought me something from the morgue.”

Molly smiled, lifting the plastic bag she was carrying. “Some toes. I knew you’d want them.” 

Sherlock smiled, a genuine one this time, and reached over to take the bag from her, peering in. They were in a plastic container. He shoved the whole thing, bag and all, into the refrigerator, and then walked back into the sitting room, where Molly still stood, looking around.

“Thank you, Molly.” he said, standing in front of her, his arms tucked behind him. 

Molly smiled “It was no problem. I mean, it was, but you know. I don’t mind.”

“Is there something else, Molly?”

Molly bit her bottom lip and looked up at the consulting detective. She’d used the toes as an excuse to get over here alone with Sherlock. Would she put the rest of her plan into motion? She took a deep breath, and stepped closer to Sherlock.

“Sherlock, are you doing okay? It’s been over a year since you came back and I know it must be odd without John here.”

Sherlock shook his head. “You all do realize that I lived the vast majority of my life without one John Watson in it, do you not? He was a good flatmate, he’s still a friend. I’m fine here by myself, I assure you.”

Molly smiled a tight lipped smile up at him. “I know, Sherlock, but don’t you get...lonely?” She stepped even closer to him, and tentatively reached out, stroking a hand down his chest.

Sherlock watched her hand, impassively. Or at least that was the impression he struggled to give. He did not know what had gotten into Molly Hooper, but he had an idea of where she was going.

“Molly.” he said slowly, continuing to stare at her hand, which had come to rest just below his sternum. “Are you attempting to seduce me?”

Molly lifted her eyebrows and looked up into Sherlock’s blue-green eyes. “Is it working?”

Sherlock chuckled at this, and stepped back away from her and then sidestepped to his black leather chair, folding his long legs up under him. He motioned to the chair opposite - John’s chair, still - and waited for her to settle herself into it.

“Molly, I am not unaware of your attraction to me, and I do, in fact, find it flattering.” He paused. “But you of all people should know that I’m married to my work.”

Molly opened her mouth to respond, but Sherlock rolled right over her. “What you may not know is that while I am not inexperienced, I have never found myself in the company of a woman.”

Molly’s eyes widened at this. “I had assumed - the woman at the morgue. You recognized her by not her face.”

Sherlock pursed his lips and stared at a spot over Molly’s head, remembering. “I had seen her nude. That’s all.”

Molly nodded, and leaned forward in the chair. “So you’re not interested in women?”

Sherlock shrugged. “Maybe? Maybe not? It’s always been men that were pushy enough to get past my reservations to pique my interest. I don’t know. The Woman - Irene Adler - she might have been able to do it, but circumstances were what they were, and she didn’t get an opportunity to try as hard as she would have liked to.”

Molly took all this in, watching Sherlock’s face. “But you’ve been with men?”

Sherlock nodded. “Mostly at uni. A time or two at boarding school. A few times when...well, when I was under the influence of various substances. A few times in trade for such substances. My past is not pretty, as you know.”

“And you enjoyed it, the times you were with men?”

“When I would let myself, yes. It’s something I don’t tend to allow myself, for reasons we’ve already discussed. Work. Clarity. Focus.”

Molly slid out of the chair, coming to her feet between the two chairs. She looked at Sherlock, who gazed up at her with a questioning look in his eye.

“Would you like to see if you’d enjoy it? With me?”

Watching Molly like a caged tiger, Sherlock pondered his options. Her forwardness was definitely intoxicating to him. He shifted in his seat, sliding his feet down onto the floor, but remaining seated. “Don’t make the error of confusing curiosity with sentiment, Molly.”

Molly laughed at this, a full laugh that rang out in 221B. “Sherlock, I of all people know that you are not about to get ...sentimental about me. But we are both adults, and I decided today that I would come over here and offer what I could give, for whatever you would take, and we’d both hopefully get something out of it.”

She stepped up to the chair, standing just in front of his knees. He watched her. She licked her lips. “Close your eyes.”

Sherlock tilted his head, watching her. “What are you going to do, Molly Hooper?”

“A mouth is a mouth, Sherlock. Close your eyes. Let me pleasure you. Then you can decide if you want more.”

Sherlock took a deep breath, watching her. An experiment, then. He could get behind that. He smiled briefly at her, then closed his eyes. “Alright.”

Molly slid to her knees on the floor and stared at the man in front of her. He was trusting her, and that made her suspect. She watched his face for a moment, and finally decided to go for it. She reached forward, reaching for the pyjama bottoms he wore. He shifted in the chair but made no move to stop her, so she slid her hands around his waist and tapped at his hips with her fingers. Understanding, he lifted up off the seat, his hands planted on the armrests of his chair. Hooking her fingers under both the pyjamas and his pants, she slid them over his bottom, bringing her hands back around to pull them over his cock on the way down.

She stopped again once she’d slid everything down to his ankles, and looked. She was momentarily overwhelmed with the immensity of what she was doing. Before she could talk herself into fleeing the flat and trying to avoid ever looking at Sherlock Holmes again, she leaned in and took him in her hand, lightly caressing him. 

His breath caught, and she watched his face. She slowly caressed and stroked him, feeling him harden in her hands. His fingers moved at the arms of his chair, flexing and gripping, but softly. She satisfied herself that he was in no distress, and leaned up on her knees taller, gently reaching out her tongue to lick the tip of his quickly hardening cock.  
He shifted in his seat, obviously restraining himself from pushing towards her mouth for more. She took him in his hand and slid her hand down his length as she slid him further into her mouth, her tongue running along the bottom of his length as she took him in.

“Oh.” he said softly, and she looked up at him. His eyes remained closed, his head tilted back. She smiled and continued her ministrations, sucking lightly and sliding up and down, feeling him harden even more within her mouth. 

She held him at the base, unable to take all of him at this angle, and continued swirling her tongue around as she sucked, pulling him out of her mouth just long enough to lick his head and slide him back in. 

He groaned again, and when she looked up at him, she found his eyes on her. She continued to work his cock, her eyes locked on his. After a few moments he tentatively reached a hand down and stroked her face, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear. “Molly, stop.”

She slowly slid him out of her mouth, and sat back on her heels, disappointed. She’d thought he was enjoying himself, but perhaps not. She watched his face. 

“Stand up.” he said, hoarsely. Molly brought herself up to her feet and stepped back as Sherlock kicked his trousers and pants off of his ankles and stood up in front of her.

She watched him, waiting. He stared down at her. She held his gaze. He wanted strong enough to push past his belief that sex and love were a distraction to his work? She’d show him. It was so hard, though, staring up into those eyes. Every bit of her wanted to turn and run, to run out of 221B, run home, pretend she’d never done this, pretend she’d never heard the sounds that Sherlock Holmes made when his cock was in her mouth.

But she held her ground. 

After a moment, she could see it in his face. She could see his resolve crumble, could see the end of the internal battle he’d been fighting. She saw it a split second before he swooped down on her, capturing her chin in his hand and his lips with hers. Their kiss was not gentle, was not tentative. Sherlock pressed his lips to hers and a split second later pressed his tongue to her lips, wanting more. She opened to him eagerly, and his hands moved to either side of her head, holding her in place as he ravaged her mouth with kisses and sharp, quick bites to her lower lip. It was Molly’s turn to moan.

Sherlock broke the kiss, but only to sweep an arm under her knees and scoop her up in his arms, carrying her towards his bedroom. Molly giggled madly as he walked down the hall, turning around at the door to push it open with his backside, and then turning again to lay her on his bed.

“Oh, Molly,” he said, standing at the edge of the bed, looking down at her. “What have you done? I’ve spent years compartmentalizing you. You are my pathologist. That was where you fit. It was neat. Easy. Uncomplicated. You have broken open a dam that cannot be rebuilt.”

He stared down at her, and she was momentarily afraid. He saw the change in her demeanor, and immediately softened his features. “But it couldn’t last, could it, Molly Hooper? We’ve danced this dance for years and we’ve circled around each other but eventually, eventually we would brush up against each other.”

He kept his eyes on her as he shrugged out of his dressing gown and then reached down and pulled the grey teeshirt off of his body. He stood before her naked and unashamed. Her eyes immediately went to the bullet wound scar on his chest. He followed her eyes, looking down at it. “Good as new.” he said.

She laughed at the absurdity of the situation. She was sitting on Sherlock’s bed, fully dressed, as he stood naked in front of her and they pondered his scar. Her nerves finally getting the best of her, she giggled for a moment, before the surprised look in Sherlock’s face brought her back to reality. “Sorry,” she said, a hand over her mouth. “This is just very, very strange all of a sudden.”

Sherlock leaned over to Molly, kissing her again as he reached for the buttons on her blouse. “It is very strange. You’re wearing all these clothes.”

Molly smiled at Sherlock and scooted around him and stood. He turned to watch as she slowly undressed, watching him. His eyes roamed her body, drinking her in, but he did not reach for her. When the last of her clothing hit the floor, Sherlock reached out toward her, and she stepped to him, allowing him to pull her into his arms. She wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her head against his chest, listening to his heart beat. They stood that way for a long moment, just reveling in each other’s touch, before Sherlock gently turned and maneuvered them onto the bed. 

Stretching himself out over Molly, Sherlock began to explore her body with his mouth, placing gentle kisses on her face, and jaw and neck before moving down to her breasts. She let him explore, encouraging him with soft moans and hissing breaths when his teeth found her nipples. He looked up at her, gauging her responses and adapting instantly. He moved downward, leaving a wet trail of open mouthed kisses down her belly, before nuzzling his nose into the soft curls below. He paused, then, looking up at her. 

Molly smiled down at Sherlock, reaching to run her fingers through his dark curls. “If you want, Sherlock. I’m here.”

Sherlock scooted down further on the bed, and gently nudged Molly’s thighs apart. She opened to him, a soft sigh escaping her lips as she closed her eyes.

Sherlock reached out with his hands, gently separating her folds and gazing down into her sex. While he had no practical experience with pleasuring a woman, he’d read and seen enough to know what he should do. He slid a long finger along her slit, gathering up the moisture that had already begun to pool. Dipping his head, he took a tentative taste, and then sat up again, looking up at Molly and savoring it. 

“I do not understand the male reluctance to perform cunnilingus, Molly,” he said. Her eyes opened and she met his eyes. “You are delicious.” Before she could think of a response, he leaned down again, and began exploring her with his mouth. Molly gasped, and her head fell back against the pillow again. Sherlock took this to be a good sign, and reached with a finger again, gently sliding a finger inside of Molly. 

Her hands found his curls again as she gasped. One finger was quickly replaced by two, and all coherent thought was replaced by the sensations in four square inches of Molly’s body as she writhed under his touch. 

He continued to explore her with lips and tongue until her moans and cries began to run into one another, and he felt her clench around his fingers. 

Moving along side her and pulling her into his arms, Sherlock held her while she caught her breath and settled. He knew she was ready when she started rubbing herself against him, kissing his neck and face. Carefully, he rolled over on top of her, his hands on either side of her face as he kissed her, his knees between hers.

They kissed until they were both breathless, and then Molly reached between them and guided him to her. The feeling was different than what he was accustomed to, but not unpleasant. He gazed down at Molly, who had a slightly distressed look on her face. He froze.

“Just...hold a second, Sherlock...big.” Molly closed her eyes and focused on relaxing around the large cock seated inside her. Sherlock leaned down to nibble on her ear, whispering soft words she could scarcely believe were coming from the consulting detective.

“Just relax, Molly. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. Take your time. You opened this door, but I stepped through it willingly. And if you’ll have me, I’ll close it behind us.”

Molly groaned, as the emotional and physical feelings all collided within her, and she flexed her hips, encouraging him to move. Sherlock stayed down pressed against her - tight enough to feel her skin against him, but not crushing her - and began to slowly slide inside her. Molly bent her legs and planted her feet on the mattress, rising up to meet his thrusts. She reached between them to work her clit, and Sherlock smiled down at her, increasing the tempo of his thrusts until she came apart in his arms. He stilled for a few moments, watching her, cataloging this in his mind palace.

Catching her breath, Molly looked up at Sherlock, analyzing the look in his eyes. “Your turn.” she said, a wicked grin on her face. Sherlock growled, and pushed himself up, starting with slow, strong strokes but eventually letting the sensations overtake him as Molly reached up and raked his nails down her chest. “Take it,” she whispered. “Take your pleasure, let me give you that.” His strokes became harder, faster, more frenzied, and he slammed her petite body into the mattress as he howled out his orgasm.

The moment he finished his head cleared, and he rolled off of Molly, bringing her against his chest again and kissing her forehead. “Are you okay? I’m sorry.”

Molly smiled at him and snuggled against his chest. “I’m fine, Sherlock, don’t be sorry. You seemed like you needed that.”

“It’s...been a while. Like I said. Just as long as you’re okay.”

Molly blushed. “I...I can take it. I can take more than that.”

Sherlock raised an eyebrow at that and stared into her eyes for a moment. “Molly Hooper. Aren’t you the naughty one?”

Molly giggled “Says the man laying naked with me.”

Sherlock nodded his head. “True. Very true.” He reached out and ran a finger along her jaw, lifting her head so her eyes met his. “I meant what I said, Molly.”

Molly stared at him for a moment, struggling to remember what had been said during their moments of passion. Her eyes widened.

“I’d managed to avoid this. I knew your feelings for me, I knew I cared for you. I wasn’t sure how the sex would be…” he trailed off, a grin breaking out on his face, “But I can see those worries were unwarranted, unless you’re not as pleased as I am.”

Molly laughed. “Quite, Sherlock.”

Sherlock leaned over and kissed her. “Then it’s settled.”

Molly shook her head, grinning at him. “It really is that simple to you, isn’t it? What happened to  
don’t confuse curiosity with sentiment?’”

Sherlock frowned. “It would appear that occasionally I am wrong. Please don’t tell anyone.” he grinned at her conspiratorially. “I have learned in the last few years that I can love. I love John, I love Mrs. Hudson, I love Lestrade. I thought that my love for you was similar, but now? Now I wonder if I might be capable of romantic love, too.”

Molly snuggled against Sherlock’s body. “Perhaps. But I think we need a nap before we try to tackle that question.”


End file.
